


Add it to the list

by kenwayallgetalong



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Car Chases, F/M, Journals, Mainly headcanon, Nate & Sully feels, Partly Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-15 05:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7210670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenwayallgetalong/pseuds/kenwayallgetalong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Sully’s line in the Madagscar City chase: “We can never, ever come back to this city again. Add it to the list!"</p>
<p>Pure, personal headcanon for what years of globetrotting and lawbreaking will earn you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cusco, Peru

Elena’s wandering into the kitchen when her foot catches one of the book piles Nate _still_ hasn’t put away, spilling them over the floor. Ugh. “Nate!” she yells, bending down to pick them up.

They’re mainly his journals; he’s got stacks of them, and refuses to throw any of them away in case he needs some information buried deep in a year-old notebook. She hears footsteps behind her.

“What? Aw, books.” Nate whines as he slumps to the floor and helps pick them up. “We need more bookshelves.” He says, idly flicking through an old notebook.

“We need less books.” Elena responds, reaching for a notebook that’s fallen open on a back page. Picking it up, she finds a short list of about half a dozen names of cities, simply titled “ **THE LIST** ” in Nate’s scribble.

“Uh, Nate?” she asks, turning the notebook around towards him. Nate looks up, and his eyes widen. “Oh crap.” He mutters, taking the book gently from her hands. “Almost forgot about this.”

“What is it?” she asks gently. Nate looks up at her, half sheepish. “Well, I’ve got into some bad scrapes in a few cities before. Some worse than others.”

“Ah.” Elena nods, seeing where this is going. “And these are the ones you can’t visit?” she finishes. “Exactly.” Nate concludes. “Just so I don’t accidentally take a job there and realise we’re wanted to hang.”

“Is that a problem?” Elena asks, half-jokingly. She can never tell with Nate. He grins. “Why do you think we can’t go back to Peru?”

  **Cusco, Peru**

Nate’s fifteen, having only met Victor Sullivan 6 months ago, still not entirely trusting him, but pulling heists with someone requires a vague alliance.

Which is why despite Nate’s lack of trust for Victor Sullivan, he’s balancing on his shoulders out the back of the town hall of Cusco, trying to reach the drainpipe just above his head.

Nate leaps, and just manages to get a grip on it, pulling himself up and off Sully’s shoulders.

“Alright kid,” Sully calls up. “Get up to the window, come down, and let me in.”

Nate grins and starts pulling himself up the drainpipe. Easy.

He drops in through the open window, and sneaks down the dimly lit stairwell towards the back door. As he creeps through, he spies the mayor’s desk through an open door. Oh. Perfect. Sully claims he knew where the museum blueprints were, but it couldn’t hurt to check, could it?

 -

 As luck would have it, the blueprints are already on his desk, unrolled.

Nate grins, and begins copying them down into his notebook, scribbling out entrances, exits, and the guard routes.

It takes him just over a minute, before he realises Sully would be freaking out by now, so he tucks the notebook away and moves to the door. His eyes land on the wallet just on the corner of the desk.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He grins, opening it and stuffing all the pesos within into his jeans. Unluckily, that’s the very moment Mayor Rojas opens the door from his private bathroom, scratching his ass, and seeing a young street rat pocketing his cash.

“Hijo de puta!” he snarls, reaching into his holster and ripping out a .44 Magnum. “Ah crap.” Nate mutters, holding up his hands.

-

Nate’s sitting in a cell, staring at the wall and mad to all hell when he hears footsteps approaching his cell.

One of the guards unhooks a bunch of keys off his belt, and unlocks the door, followed by Sully. “Hey kid.” He grins. Despite himself, Nate smiles back, and it takes a great deal of effort not to run up and hug Sully when the door opens.

They follow the guard back down the hall, Sully pays them, they toss Nate his stuff, and they walk back out of the jail into the evening.

Sully sits on a bench nearby, pulls out a cigar, and stares off into the distance while Nate stuffs everything back into his pockets. Rojas took his cash back, no surprise there, but he’s got his bag, his ring, and his notebook back.

Nate slips the ring back over his head and sighs in relief as it rests against his chest. Sully sighs.

“I’m sorry kid. Should’ve known Rojas would be in there.” He mutters. “What took you so long anyway?” Nate grins, flips open his notebook, and shows him the copied blueprints.

Sully’s eyes widen, and he carefully takes it from Nate, flipping through the plans of the building.

“Well I’ll be go to hell. Nice work kid.” He grins, stuffing the cigar into the corner of his mouth. “You ready to go rob a museum?”

 -

They’re sneaking out of Cusco the next night, having grabbed the artifact their client was after thanks to Nate’s plans, when Sully turns to him while he’s driving.

“You did good kid.” And Nate grins to himself, pleased Sully approves.

“We might not wanna come back here for a while though.” Sully continues. “Rojas can hold a hell of a grudge, and the museum’s not gonna like us any either.”

Nate nods, then flips to the back of his notebook and pencils in “Cusco, Peru” on the back page. Sully notices, and raises an eyebrow. “Just so we remember.” Nate says, and catches himself a little on the fact that he just said _we_.


	2. Cork, Ireland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon for how Nate and Charlie met (bonus Harry Flynn!).

“So that’s the item.” Their client finishes, taking the picture back. “Are you sure you can acquire it?”

Nate glances over at Flynn, who’s smoking with that wary look of _yeah-maybe-but-this-could-all-go-tits-up-very-quickly_. “Yeah,” he says. “Just…” their client’s eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s a bit of an undertaking.” Harry finishes, leaning forward. “It’s a cathedral.” Their client retorts. “We’d just be happier if we had an extra body on the team. Just as an extra pair of hands.” Nate clarifies quickly. They are _not_ giving up on this job. Their client huffs.

“I thought you might say that. Cutter!” they yell over their shoulder. One of the men from the pool table detaches himself from the throng and walks over. Nate casts a quick eye over him. Tall, well-built. Can clearly handle himself in a fight. A pair of sharp blue eyes peers out from a thick, stubbly face.

“Cutter will assist you.” Their client continues, jerking a thumb over their shoulder at him. “He will also watch you to make sure you don’t stray from what I’m employing you to do.” Nate and Harry both stand, Cutter watching them carefully.

“Same place, same time, three nights from now.” Their client finishes. They both nod and leave the back room of the bar, Cutter following. 

-

 Nate and Harry step out of Slattery’s pub into the thin Cork drizzle. “Well,” Harry begins, pulling on his jacket. “That was pleasant.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Nate agrees. “Scope it out tonight, grab it the night after?” he asks. “Sounds good.” Harry nods, hands cupped around a cigarette. “Fuck’s sake.” He curses, tossing his empty lighter into the road. “You got a light Nate?” Nate stares at him, incredulous. “You know I don’t smoke!”

“Here.” Cutter growls, emerging from the alley beside the pub, tossing Harry his lighter. “So what can you do?” Nate asks, folding his arms as he measures up Cutter. Cutter shrugs. “Decent driver, I can fight well, and apparently I’m babysitting you two.”

Harry bristles at that, handing back the lighter. “No offence.” Cutter continues, waving him off, leaning against the wall. “That prick thinks I’m a bloody dog, calling me whenever he wants. At least the pay’s good.” Nate and Harry exchange a glance.

“Anyway,” Cutter continues, pushing himself off the wall. “I’ll get us a car and meet you boys back here tomorrow night?” They both agree, and Cutter nods at them both before turning and walking down the road.

 -

 Robbing the cathedral went _okay_ (despite Cutter and Harry having a few qualms with robbing a church. Despite, or probably due to, Nate’s childhood, he has a healthy dislike for religion). The escape however, did not.

As Harry and Nate sprint for the car, police sirens wail behind them. “Shit.” Nate mutters. “Split up, meet you at the car?” Harry huffs what is probably an agreement, and Nate tears off down a sidestreet while Harry vaults a fence and keeps running. “C’mon Nate, c’mon.” He mutters as he slides underneath a washing line and runs through a garden.

Hopping a fence, he slows to a walk as he approaches where Cutter’s car is. He hears voices, and ducks back into the alley as he listens. “Sir, if you’ll get out of the car please.” The Irish accent is rising in anger. Not a good sign.

“C’mon mate,” was the British-tinged reply. Cutter. “I’m just picking up my kid.” “At 2:00am?” the officer growls. “Sleepover mate, you know how it is. Her first time away from home.”

“Get out of the car.” Nate knows a situation turning bad when he hears one and rounds the corner, tackling the officer and taking him down with a swift punch to the head. “Not bad there, Drake.” He hears from behind him. He turns, and spots Cutter half out of the car, door partly open. “Saved my arse there.”

“Oi!” Harry hisses, dropping off the roof of the house across the road and tearing it across to them. “Can we y’know, shift it?” Nate and Cutter drop back into the car, and the tires are already turning as Harry drops himself in the passenger seat.

-

“So that’s the artifact.” Nate finishes, as Harry returns the statues to the case. Their client sits across from them, Cutter, Nate notices, stands at the side of the table, not proclaiming his allegiance just yet.

“Let’s see the money.” Harry prompts. “You see,” their client begins, shifting in his seat. “You gentlemen have already cost me a fair bit. Cutter here doesn’t come cheap, and neither does bribing the Cork police department to not search this pub or your hotel for the last few nights.”

Nate does not like where this is going. “So here’s a proposal,” they continue, leaning forward, fingers steepled. “Leave the statues, and leave this pub, unarrested. I’ll even let you leave Cork unhindered.” A long silence stretches out.

“Well…” Nate begins, drawing it out. He glances over at Harry, who sets his jaw and nods almost imperceptibly. “If we said no to that?” he continues, while glancing around the back room of the pub. Six men, plus their client, none of them bigger than Harry or Nate. The only problem would be Cutter. Their client smiles.

“That would end badly. For you.” Nate sighs. “Hopefully that’s not true.” He says, grabbing the table and pitching it over, sending beer glasses and ashtrays raining down on their client. Harry grabs the case, and goes to hit Cutter, when he ducks under it, and instead of going for Harry, grabs the nearest man who charges them down and bodily chucks him over his shoulder.

Nate punches the first man who comes for him, then grabs his chair and smacks the next man over the head. He turns, and sees Harry quite happily using the case as a blunt object, while Cutter grabs a pool cue and merrily cracks it over the last guy’s head. They all stand, breathing heavily, when they hear a scrape along the floor, and turn to see their client sprinting out into the bar.

“Ah, crap.” Nate mutters. “What?” Cutter says. “We got the stuff didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Nate continues “But he’s on his way to the police right now!”As if to punctuate his sentence, sirens erupt nearby.

“Honestly mate, how do you do that?” Harry asks, and Cutter walks over to the window and flings a chair through. “Come on!” he orders, and, not needing telling twice, Nate and Harry jump to it.

-

They end up in one of Cutter’s friend’s apartments (who simply cast an eye over them and said “coffee’s in the cupboard”, before yawning hugely and going back to sleep) drinking truly _awful_ coffee while Cutter has his phone glued to his ear. “Alright.” He says triumphantly, sitting down at the table with Nate and Harry, the case on the table.

“My mate’s telling me that he’s circulated our photos to the police.” _Great_ , Nate thinks, sinking in his chair. “But,” Cutter continues “another mate of mine who owes me one is on his way now to pick us up. We can be out of the country before the morning, and he’s already got my stuff.”

Nate glances over to Harry, who raises his eyebrow and sets his mug down. “Look mate-“ Cutter stops him mid-sentence. “Charlie.” He clarifies. Harry makes a non-committal noise and starts again.

“Look, Charlie, not that we don’t appreciate this, but why are you helping us?” Charlie blinks for a few seconds, before realization dawns on his face. “You seemed like decent blokes, and I don’t like double-crossers.” He shrugs.

“’Sides, he paid me upfront, so I didn’t make much of a loss.” Nate and Harry laugh at that, and Nate decides he likes Cutter, the big earnest bugger that he is. “You lot want a beer?” he asks, heading for the fridge. 

-

On a ferry back to England the next day, Nate scribbles down Cutter’s phone number, then, after a few seconds of deciding, flips to the back page and scribbles down Cork, Ireland, underneath Cusco, Peru.

 


	3. Reykjavik, Iceland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans occur. Chloe to the rescue!

“Chloe!” Nate yells as he drops off the roof of the building, heading for the car. She drops her phone, and slams the gearstick into drive as Nate pulls open the door. “Go go go-“ he begins, quickly cut off as Chloe slams her foot onto the accelerator and the tires bite into the tarmac.

“Buckle up.” She says shortly, not taking her eyes off the road. “How the hell did you screw up recon, Nate?” she asks, as she jerks the steering wheel to the right, just as she hears other cars start up behind them. “Weeeeell…” Nate begins. “We’re about to be in a chase through the streets of Reykjavik, Nate, either tell me or shut up!”

“Lemay’s men were there too!” He yells defensively. “They recognised me, and one idiot started shooting.” Chloe grimaces. “Not exactly ideal timing.” She mutters. Although Reykjavik isn’t as packed as most major cities, there are still far too many people on the streets right now.

“Look under your seat.” She says, nodding her head towards it as two SUVs appear in the rear mirror. Nate does as he’s told, and comes up with an MP5K in his hands. “Uh, Chloe…?” he begins. “Start shooting.” She says simply. Smacking off the safety, Nate leans out the window and starts firing.

Chloe makes a sharp left, and belatedly realises the _massive_ Reykjavik hills below her. Oh well. She slams the accelerator, and skips about half the hill before the wheels slam down on the concrete again, her hand glued to the horn. Civilians scatter as the van peels through the streets, Nate still firing wildly. As the hill starts to level off, she spots a tram running perpendicular to their hill. _Shit_.

She grabs Nate by the shirt and pulls him back in, just as she hits the gas again, praying that they fit. They squeeze past the incoming tram, managing to blow out her back lights on it. She hits the accelerator again, and winces as she hears the first SUV collide with the tram. Back on level ground, they tear off, just as sirens erupt into chorus nearby.

“Shit.” She curses. To make matters worse, the second SUV has negotiated the wreck of the tram and is gaining on them. “Uh, Chloe?” Nate asks, dropping back into the van to reload. “Do we have a plan?” She sighs, realising she’s only got one more card left. “Keep shooting.” She orders, reaching into her jacket to grab her phone, quickly finding the number she’s looking for and hitting call. They pick up after one ring. “What is it, Fraser?”

“Great to hear from you too, Jordan! Listen, how’s-.” Jordan cuts her off. “Fraser, I’ve got a _lot_ of merchandise on the tarmac, and we’re hearing sirens. What’s going on?” Okay, so flattery’s not going to work. “We’re in trouble. How soon can you leave?” Jordan recognises the tone in her voice, and pauses for a moment.

“Five minutes.” He says. _Perfect_. “I need you to leave some space on the plane and leave the ramp down during takeoff.” She can practically hear his eyes pop out of his head. “Are you mad, Fraser?”

“My parents only wish so. Just do it.” She finishes, tossing her phone out the window. Nate looks over at her.

“Plan?”

“Start praying.”

-

They _somehow_ make it to Iceland Airport, the SUV too close for comfort, as well as the police convoy that’s after them. Swerving onto the tarmac, she spots Jordan’s cargo plane, ramp down, wheels already turning.

Nate grimaces, hands wrapped around the bullet wound in his bicep. “No way.”

“You have a better plan, darling?” she asks.

She takes the ensuing silence as an answer.

Foot pressed to the floor, she straightens up and heads for the ramp, as the plane begins its taxi. Nate’s phone rings, startling them both. He fishes it out of his pocket and answers. “Uh, hello?”

“FRASER!” Jordan yells, making Nate nearly drop his phone. “We’re taking off, get your ass on board!”

“Almost there.” She says through gritted teeth. One misstep and they’re in jail for a long time. At best. At worse, they’re a wreck on the tarmac.

The engine screaming in protest, Chloe carefully guides the van up onto the ramp of the plane, just as it begins to leave the ground. She spots Jordan waving them in, then slamming the cargo bay door. She and Nate both collapse out of the car, Nate slightly less gracefully given his bullet wound.

Two crew members run over to help him, and Nate just manages to pass her the MP5K before being hauled off. Holding it loosely, she turns to Jordan, and manages a weary hug. After a few seconds, he wraps his arms round her back and holds her close.

“You’re insane, Fraser.” He sighs. “Yeah,” Chloe grimaces. “So I’ve heard. Thanks.” She manages, patting him on the arm. He chuckles wearily. “You owe me BIG for this one, you know.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “Please tell me you have some alcohol on board.”

-

[Text message to: Chloe Fraser (EU), Jordan (plane)]

Nathan D: +d Iceland 2 list!

Jordan (plane): What list?

Chloe Fraser (EU): plcs we cant vsit

Jordan (plane): I need one of those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Created Jordan for this fic, but I've always had a headcanon that the gang have a friend with a cargo plane (the stuff they find doesn't just ship itself away you know).


	4. Turkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some places you just don't want to go back to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~*~ represents a POV change.

Out in the smoking area, Sully cast a quick glance through the glass to Nate, who sat in the departure lounge of Ataturk Airport, restlessly tapping his hands against his thighs. _Three months in prison because of that British asshole_.

Sully grimaced, then tossed his cigar and walked back inside. Chloe stood idly flipping through a magazine while Sully found a coffee machine and fed in coins. “Lookin’ for fashion advice?” he asked, as the machine rumbled into life. Chloe sighed, and tossed the magazine she hadn’t been reading back on the shelf.

“Distracting myself.” She admitted, walking over and leaning against the coffee machine. “How is he?” she asked, nodding towards Nate, who still sat grimly looking out onto the runway. Sully glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to the coffee.

“He’ll be ok.” He said, avoiding the question and passing Chloe a coffee. “C’mon Victor, you know him best.” She said. “Hey.” He said firmly, in what Chloe might’ve called a growl. “He’s fine.” 

~*~

Nate’s eyes bored a hole into the tarmac, as if he could will the plane to prepare faster. God, passport control had been a _nightmare_ , and he wasn’t looking forward to landing back in Miami.

_Still_ , he thought, _a few more days and I’ll be in Borneo. Gotta see this thing through._

His thoughts were interrupted as Sully sat down next to him, passing him a coffee. “You alright?” he asked. Nate sipped his coffee, partly out of something to do, and partly to give himself a moment to think. He’d brushed Chloe off, but he couldn’t lie to Sully.

“Been better.” He confessed, looking away. “It’s just, y’know.” He said. “Thought Flynn was a decent guy.”

“Yeah.” Sully agreed. “He was alright. Maybe,” he continued. “Maybe it’d be best if we avoided Turkey for a while.” Nate knew that tone of voice. “Yeah.” He agreed, pulling out his journal and flipping to the back page.

“That’d probably be for the best.” He said, penciling in “Turkey”, then underlining it three times, and drawing a skull and crossbones beside it for good measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These last two chapters are shorter than the others, and mainly deal with canon events.


	5. Yemen, Aden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not just Nate's list.

When they finally returned to Yemen, one thing Sully was not prepared for was for Elena to toss him his wallet, albeit after holding tightly onto him for a good five minutes.

“You left it in my jeep.” She said, something Sully couldn’t make out in her voice. Only when he woke up the next day did Sully realise it, and scrambled out of bed to make sure the ring was still there.

Yep, still there, nestled neatly over his ID. Elena had to have seen it. Sully thought back over the past year, when Nate showed up at his doorstep, with ill-concealed anger practically spilling out of him, telling him he’d left Elena.

Nate deserved the best, but he knew he could be a stubborn ass. And it was time he told him what he’d been keeping hidden from him for twenty years. He loved Nate, not just as a friend, or a partner, but also as his kid.

 - 

Sully watched Nate walk over to Elena, holding his ring loosely in his left hand.

_About time someone told the kid to wise up_ , he thought. He exhaled shakily, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders that had been in place for almost a year, the knot of tension uncurling in his back, then looked around the airfield.

It wasn’t their first time in Yemen. Sully had been here more than a few times, with and without Nate. Still, he’d never been _overly_ fond of the place.

He glanced over at Nate and Elena, still lost in their own world, then he bent down and unzipped Nate’s duffel bag, grabbing his notebook off the top of his stuff. This whole goddamn trip had been too much stress on the kid.

He scribbled down Yemen, Aden, below the other cities, looked over them, and chuckled ruefully, remembering their misadventures across the globe. He couldn’t tell the kid what to do, but at least he could give him a decent nudge.

He tucked the notebook back in and pulled out a cigar, just as he saw Nate and Elena pull each other into a tight hug. _Yeah_ , he smiled, folding his arms. _He’d be okay._


End file.
